Poured Out Like Water
by Zubeneschamali
Summary: Missing scene from 5.01, "Sympathy for the Devil." After what Chuck told the brothers, there's something Sam needs to do before they can go on. Spoilers through 5.02.


**Title**:Poured Out Like Water  
**Author**: Zubeneschamali  
**Rating**: K+ (language)  
**Summary**: Missing scene from 5.01, "Sympathy for the Devil." After what Chuck told the brothers, there's something Sam needs to do before they can go on. Spoilers through 5.02.

**A/N**: Title is from Psalm 22:14: "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted away within me."

ooooooooooooooooooo

They were sitting in the Impala in front of Chuck's house, Zachariah and the angels banished behind them and a whole lot of God-only-knew-what before them. Sam heard the familiar click of the key being inserted in the ignition, but it wasn't followed by the warm rumble of the engine. He was about to ask Dean what was going on when he heard a deep inhale from the driver's direction.

_Here it comes,_ Sam thought, bracing himself.

When Dean spoke, his voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence in the car, each word with the weight of a stone. "Black eyes, Sam." There was a pause, and then he went on, almost growling, "Chuck said he saw you with _black eyes_."

Sam nodded to himself. He'd been expecting this ever since Chuck spoke the words that sent his heart sinking to his shoes. "I didn't know," he said earnestly, repeating his earlier words. "I couldn't tell, Dean. It's not like anything looked different to me. I just—" _was so focused on killing Lilith that I completely missed what was happening to me._

And didn't that summarize the last year in a nice, tidy package?

"Oh, that's even better. " He could feel Dean staring a hole in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze. "That means it could have happened dozens of times and you wouldn't even know it."

Sam shifted in his seat. "I'm sure it hasn't happened dozens of times."

"But you don't think it was just the once." Dean's voice had gone flat, and Sam suddenly felt the shift in the air. There was danger here, and it was aimed at him. He remembered that horrible voicemail all too well, including Dean's promise to hunt him the next time he saw him. Maybe in the flurry of escaping Lucifer and the angels, he'd forgotten about it, but now apparently it was back on his mind.

Sam drew in a breath, not knowing what to say. After a few seconds of silence passed, he realized grimly that his lack of a reply had become an answer all by itself. He honestly _didn't_ know, and the thought that his eyes could have turned demon-dark not only while he was drawing on the fullest extent of his power, but on who knows how many earlier opportunities, was chilling him to the bone.

"Damn it, Sam, how could you have let it get this far?" Dean shouted with a thump of his fist to the steering wheel.

He bowed his head, unable to answer that question any more when it came from someone else's lips than from his own. "I thought I was saving the world," he choked out. "I thought I was _stopping_ Lilith. I thought I was making things right the only way I could."

"Cas said if you got juiced up enough to ice Lilith that it was going to change you. Permanently." The anger in Dean's voice slid into fear, and that finally got Sam to look up. "Black eyes, Sam. How in the hell did you think you were going to come back from that?" Dean demanded.

Sam looked at his brother, really looked at him. The lines around his mouth were tight, his eyes flashing and bright, the familiar look of admonishment over doing something stupid blended with an open fear that Sam wasn't used to seeing on his big brother's face. He waited until he was sure that Dean was going to hear what he had to say and then admitted so quietly he barely heard it himself, "I didn't."

Dean's eyes widened even further. He stared back for a moment, lips parting in surprise. Then he abruptly turned away and rubbed his hand over his mouth. "Fuck," he said just as quietly.

There was silence for a moment. Sam waited for Dean to say or do something, _anything_, but he didn't move, just kept staring out the window. Finally, Sam opened his mouth and then took a breath, but the words caught in his throat. He licked his lips and tried again, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Closing his eyes, he finally managed to get out, "You got holy water on you?"

He heard the creak of leather as Dean turned to face him. "Yeah, why?" came the wary response.

Eyes still shut, Sam held out his hand. "We have to know," he said in a low voice.

"Sam, what are you—"

He abruptly looked towards Dean, and the flinch that his big brother gave at the sudden movement was unmistakable. Sam felt his heart break a little bit more, but he twisted his lips into a semblance of a rueful smile. "If you just want to splash me with it, that's fine," he said, his voice much more level than he would have expected. "I know you probably don't want to let a weapon out of your hands."

"Goddamn it, Sam." Dean violently yanked the silver flask out of his jacket and slapped it into Sam's open hand. "Here, knock yourself out."

Sam literally bit his tongue to keep from replying to words that under most other circumstances would be perfectly innocent. Instead, he accepted the flask and opened it. He stared down at the narrow mouth of the bottle for a moment, unable to stop the sharp fear that was suddenly rising up inside of him. What if he—

Before he could talk himself into being any more nervous than he already was, he tilted his head back and brought up the flask, making sure to keep its mouth slightly away from his face so Dean could see he was actually drinking it. Then he tipped the flask so that a mouthful of holy water fell past his lips.

The water was cool and slightly metallic on his tongue, sliding down his throat in a refreshing stream. It tasted like plain old water.

It was the sweetest thing Sam had ever tasted.

He swallowed it down and lowered the flask, dropping his head and shutting his eyes tight to keep back the sudden, surprising tears that insisted on welling up. Without looking, he screwed the cap back on and held it out to Dean.

"You done now?" Dean grumbled, taking the flask from him.

Sam frowned, confused. "I thought that would be up to you," he said hesitantly, turning to look at his brother, knowing his own eyes had to be red and wet but not caring. _We both know there are demons that can drink holy water_, he thought but couldn't bring himself to say.

Dean lifted his left hand to the back of his neck and rubbed at the short hairs there. "Chuck has a devil's trap over his door," he said quietly, looking out the windshield in front of him. "Two, actually. One inside and one out. You walked right through them with no problem."

Sam looked at Dean's profile, his stomach sinking. He'd been tested and hadn't even known it. It hadn't even occurred to him that he needed to be checked for demonic influence until a minute ago, sitting here in the car. And here Dean had been so far ahead of him that he'd already gone and done it and not bothered to tell Sam that he thought it was a possibility worth checking out. "Oh," was all he said.

Dean gave him a quick, knowing look and then, finally, started the car. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said, shifting into gear and driving away with a faint screech of tires.

Sam was all too happy to agree.


End file.
